


At Last, The Fall

by StarsVanish



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Background Character Death, Depression, F/M, Family Death, Friendship, Grief, Multi, Murder, Stabbing, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Trauma, and they were roommates...kinda, but YES! I am still writing this...just slowly, but really i wrote this a year ago and i SWEAR i know what's gonna happen but i need to write it, but so does her noncanon uncle that i made up, character consistency?? i'm working on it, expect less dialogue in new chapters. i'm a narration/description heavy writer, gabriel talks a lot but that doesn't mean i like him i just needed to write his perspective, her parents die!!! don't know who else yet, set after weredad, slow burn maybe?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:49:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29956392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarsVanish/pseuds/StarsVanish
Summary: It hit her then, the absoluteness of death, the complete definitity. No hug would feel the same—she’d forget the feeling of their arms around her and the steady beat of their hearts when she laid her head against their chests—and no voice would have the same inflections and hold the same tenderness as her mother and father’s voices. She'd begin to subconsciously insert details where there hadn’t been before to make herself feel whole again. Those memories, too, would fade with time.---Marinette's first real failure. Her parents are dead, killed by her uncle who'd come to visit. She moves into the Agreste mansion as a part of her new internship at Gabriel, but she doesn't know that Gabriel has done this on purpose: He knows who she is, and he's going to take her down.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Alya Césaire/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 1
Kudos: 28





	1. Inhale the Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote ch 1-7 in 2019, but i've still been thinking about it. so ch8 and beyond have been written in 2021. if you don't like the style/voice at the beginning, don't worry, it changes! and if you do like it, don't worry, it gets better! 
> 
> thanks for reading, and i hope you stick around to watch this story grow! :)

Marinette tapped the keys of the bakery cash register nervously with her fingertips. She tried to feign boredom, but it wasn’t working. Tikki gave Marinette a worried look from her opened purse. 

“Papa,” Marinette called over her shoulder, “When’s Uncle Terrence supposed to get here? I thought you said at three?”

Her father emerged from taking inventory in the back, clipboard in hand. “He probably got held up a bit from the storm. Ah,” he tucked the pencil behind his ear, “this is your first time seeing him since you were a baby, isn’t it?”

She nodded, hoping he’d connect her nervousness to her uncle instead of how long it had been since the last time there was an akuma attack. 

It had been a week and two days and Hawkmoth had been completely silent. There hadn’t even been a stray butterfly in sight still looking for an owner. It was deeply worrying considering how aggressive he had become in the last few months. His record was three akumas and one sentimonster in a week. Marinette had downed so much caffeine after those attacks that she barely remembered anything—she could only imagine what she had acted like. 

“Yeah! It’s been a while for you, too, and I just want you to have a good birthday this year! I know I wasn’t there last year, but—”

“You’re here now, Marinette,” he interrupted, patting her on the back with a soft smile before frowning. “But I just hope we don’t have an akuma scare like we did last year. I’d rather have a birthday where you’re all safe than a birthday where you’re all here in danger.”

Marinette nervously smiled, desperately hoping for the same. 

The bell above the door suddenly rang, and Marinette’s attention snapped to the door. 

“Terrence!” her father exclaimed, rushing to meet him with a hug. 

“Tom!” he greeted just as warmly. 

The two brothers looked incredibly alike. The only notable difference was that Terrence looked like Tom five years in the future and wore more professional clothes. He was, after all, a motivational speaker, which was why the Dupain-Chengs had such a hard time getting a hold of him. Terrence was constantly traveling, visiting schools and workplaces around the world to give talks, and barely had any time to visit his parents, let alone his brother. 

“How _are_ you?” Terrence asked, personality just as bright as Marinette’s father. “It’s been so long!” He suddenly noticed Marinette standing next to his brother. “Oh, Marinette! You’ve grown so much! Last time I saw you, gosh, I think you were just starting school! Time has really passed, hasn’t it?” he turned toward Tom. 

Marinette grinned. “Hi, Uncle Terrence.” 

She was normally pretty good at talking to adults, but her anxiety got in the way of properly greeting her uncle. She wasn’t even sure if she could hold a vaguely regular conversation in this state. She gripped her phone in her apron pocket, fully prepared to make an excuse and run out at the slightest buzz. This time, she’d use the _oops! I think I forgot something in the oven!_ excuse she hadn’t used with her parents in a while.

“I heard all the noise, did Terrence—Terrence!” Marinette’s mom walked toward the excited brothers. 

“Sabine! My, if Marinette wasn’t here, I would have thought you travelled through time! You look exactly the same!” The two exchanged air kisses.

“I hadn’t heard you come in! I was just decorating Tom’s cake upstairs—I don’t want him to see it, you know,” she added, eyeing her husband. “How was the flight? I heard there was a terrible storm on the way here.”

“Bumpy but manageable,” he shrugged. “I couldn’t let a bit of turbulence get in the way of coming to see you all! Scheduling this was hard enough, and I wouldn’t want something else to delay it! Besides, don’t you have more to worry about?”

“What do you mean?” Tom asked.

“That hawk man, of course!” he exclaimed with wide eyes. “Paris is on the news at least once a week, even in the States! I can’t imagine living constantly worried about the next time someone gets possessed, you know?”

Tom’s eyes immediately turned toward the ground, guilt returning from the time he had been akumatized. He remembered seeing himself on the news later that day but nothing of actually being akumatized. He had even put Marinette in danger when it happened—the whole city! 

Marinette and Sabine watched Tom closely at the mention of Hawkmoth, and Sabine put a hand on her husband’s arm. Sometimes the shame of being akumatized would overpower Tom, and he’d have a breakdown. Although he’d been going to group and personal therapy sessions, they all knew that it would take a while for him to move on after having put Marinette in danger. Despite how Marinette often reassured her father that she was physically and mentally okay, he still blamed himself for allowing Hawkmoth to get a hold of him and hurt Marinette. 

“It’s a good thing that we have Ladybug and Chat Noir, though!” Marinette weakly supplied, still incredibly anxious but knew her dad needed someone to diffuse the situation. During moments like these, she also learned that hearing her voice also helped him recenter himself. 

Tom nodded, visibly trying to ground himself. “Those two truly are the saviors of Paris. Who knows what kind of terrible place Paris would be without them.”

It seemed the perceptiveness skipped one brother and went all into the other. Terrence often made stupid mistakes and said the wrong thing, but being away from his younger brother for so long did not make him suddenly blind to his moods. 

“Tom, are you okay?”

The other brother shakily nodded. “Yes. I…” he hesitated. “I was one of Hawkmoth’s victims before, so sometimes it’s all just a little hard.”

Understanding dawned on Terrence and was clouded with concern. “That’s horrible. I had no idea,” he trailed off into a pause. “I’m glad you have a really good support system here with Sabine and Marinette. Just know that I’m also here for you if you need it.”

“I can show you upstairs if you want?” Marinette offered. “I’m sure it’s changed since the last time you were here.”

He gave her a relaxed smile. “Sure.”

Marinette trailed behind her uncle as he made his way through their bakery and up the stairs. She glanced back and saw her mother give her a thankful smile. Although she wanted to help her dad, she knew her mom would worry for the rest of the day if she wasn’t completely sure he was okay. After all, he wasn’t the only one who had been hurt after being akumatized. 

The whole experience had traumatized Marinette’s parents. Sabine now knew what it was like to watch her partner fall victim to Hawkmoth’s promises and turn into a different being ravaged with negative emotions. And she knew it could happen again. But she also knew that she could not let her husband experience that same pain. Since Tom’s akumatization, she had taken upon herself to be as unakumatizable as possible.

She became more mindful and used different mediation techniques to monitor herself daily to a nearly obsessive level: at the cash register, while frosting cakes, when helping customers out. There was a constant voice of fear in the back of her mind, but she refused to let it get to her, reminding herself to be as neutral as possible. 

_Happiness_ , she repeated in her mind like a prayer, _is where the home is._


	2. Wishing and Wanting

“—Happy birthday to you!” the four of them sang. 

The three Dupain-Chengs and one Dupain had managed to make it to the end of the night without a single akuma. 

Although the day had started out rough—hell, just the year had been tough—Tom was truly happy. And as he blew out the candles on the cake, all he wished was that it’d stay that way. 

Marinette flipped the light switch back on, illuminating their kitchen table where the four of them were gathered, and came back with the plates her mom had set out earlier. 

“I’m really glad I was able to come,” Terrence said, helping Marinette clear up the rest of the dishes from dinner. “You’ve grown a lot.” He swung his arm around his brother’s shoulder. “In more ways than one,” he teased, poking Tom’s midsection. 

“Hey!” Tom pushed Terrence’s arm off with a grin. “There is nothing better in this world than some soft carbs. I’m sure Papa taught you that too,” he pointedly looked at the cake in front of him. 

The elder brother held up his hands in surrender. “You got me there. I don’t know what I’d do if I also chose the baking route.”

“So,” Marinette interjected, “what exactly do you do for your job? What do you talk about?” 

“Ah. As I’m sure your dad has told you, I’m a motivational speaker. I go around to a lot of universities and talk about what it takes to understand yourself. As I’m sure you’re getting to that age, there’s a lot ahead of you and that gets confusing sometimes.”

 _Sometimes_ , Marinette thought. _But superhero life is pretty straightforward. I don’t know what I—what Paris—would do if I wasn’t Ladybug._

“Oh, don’t worry her too much! Marinette’s still so young! She’s got more ahead of her before those decisions!”

Terrence shook off his brother’s concerns. “Anyway, I just go to speak and try to get students more excited about their future, and, hopefully, some of my advice sticks!”

Marinette slowly nodded, dicing her slice of cake with the side of her fork. 

“Do you follow a script for it then? Or do you just go in with a vague outline and improvise?”

“Good question. It depends, but I usually use my regular speech with a few personalized bits for the school I’m at. Sometimes the university’ll ask me to touch a little bit more on, say, collaboration between peers, so I’ll weave that somewhere into it too.”

The family continued their conversations, laughing long into the night and delved into Marinette’s hopes for her future and teasing from her parents. During these hours, they were able to forget about the ever-looming threat of akumas in their city and focus on themselves and their own happiness.

Sabine looked between her daughter and husband, chest light as she saw the grins on their faces, tears running down their cheeks after a particularly comical story that Terrence had shared about the principal at a school he was speaking at and a disappearing cow. This was her home. She only wished that this happened more often. Oh, how she missed these days before Marinette became too busy with school and they had been able to gather around and share stories. 

“Goodness, it’s late!” Tom suddenly exclaimed, looking at the clock. 

11:24

“Oh! Isn’t it Monday tomorrow? Marinette, you should be getting ready for bed by now! Go, go. And Terrence, I’ll show you where the guest room is.”

Marinette smiled sheepishly. But she was particularly happy that she had spent more time with her family without worrying that there would be an akuma attack once it had gotten too late. 

“It was good to see you again, Uncle Terrence.”

“I’m sure we’ll miss each other tomorrow morning, but it was great seeing you all grown up. Good night, Marinette. I hope to see some of your designs on the streets someday,” he added with a wink. 

She grinned, surprised at the praise. “I’m sure you will. Good night, Uncle.”

He gave her a parting wave before following Sabine.

Marinette turned toward her dad who was rolling up his sleeves at the sink. “Do you need any help?”

Tom shook his head adamantly as he turned on the faucet. “No, no. Go to bed. I’ll be up soon to say goodnight.”

It was a tradition that the family had created when Marinette was younger. On the night of one of their birthdays, there would be a mini-gathering in Marinette’s room or the roof if the weather allowed it: her mom would visit on her birthday, her dad would visit on his, and they would both be there on Marinette’s. Although it started because Marinette refused to go to sleep without a last birthday present, a bedtime story and a hug, it soon caught on and continued. A birthday felt empty without it, which was why the akuma attack last year felt like it had impacted her father’s celebration so much; the fight went a little later than usual, leaving Marinette asleep before the tradition could be fulfilled. 

A knock sounded from Marinette’s floor-door before opening not long after she had crawled under the covers. It was 11:35. There was still enough time before she had to go on patrol with Chat Noir at midnight. And being late by a few minutes would be okay—it wasn’t like he had never been late before either.

“How was it, seeing Uncle Terrence after ten years?” she asked once he had taken a seat on the end of her bed. 

“It was nice,” he said, mulling over the night. “It’s sad that he has to leave so soon. He doesn’t spend enough time in France, and I’m sure your grandparents would love to see him again. But he,” her dad laughed to himself, “has not changed a bit.” He paused. It seemed like he had more to say so Marinette stayed quiet. “I’m really proud of you, Marinette,” he finally sighed. 

She blinked. That was not what she was expecting. Her dad was one of her biggest fans—tied with her mom, of course—but he had always said his compliments with exuberant, cartoonish happiness and pride, not with complete seriousness close to midnight. 

“I had a... moment earlier,” he continued, “and you held it together. I know it’s been hard for you and your mom since I was—”

“Papa, it’s okay. I’m okay. I actually wanted to ask if you are.”

He looked at her in surprise. That wasn’t the direction he thought this conversation was going to go. 

“I think I’m—no,” he shook his head. “I _am_ okay. After tonight, I feel a lot better than I have in a while. Seeing everyone together? That really helped. But, Marinette, you’re my daughter. You’re my kid! I’m the one who’s supposed to be taking care of you. You’re a _kid!_ So I just want to say thank you for supporting me through all this. I know this has been hard on you with school and your designs, so I really appreciate it. And during the few times I can’t look out for you, make sure you’re looking out for yourself.” He touched her cheek with a worried expression. “You’re looking so tired these days. If something’s worrying you, you know you can come to me or Mama, right?”

Marinette was very glad for the dim lighting and forced a smile onto her face and tried to absorb the tears back into her eyes. She refused to let them fall, but, oh, how she wanted to. How she wanted to tell her dad how tired she was, how _exhausted_ she was. How two years of being Ladybug had worn her down, made her feel so much older than she should and how her friendships were deteriorating because her sudden disappearances and excuses were piling up and making her unreliable. And how she hated it, how she hated needing to be there for Paris but barely being able to be there for herself or her friends in her civilian life.

But she refused herself. She held it all back in, as it should stay. Telling anyone about her actual fears would only endanger them. The fewer people who knew about anything Ladybug-related, the better. She was okay if the secret destroyed her, but she would not allow it to destroy anyone she loved. 

“I love you, Papa,” she choked out. Anything more and she doubted she could hold back the outburst of emotions and secrets. 

As the two embraced and Tom continued to repeat, “I love you too, Marinette,” like he was going to forget her name at any moment, she couldn’t get his words out of her mind.

Everyone close to Marinette had been akumatized at least once already. They all went through the same feelings of confusion and disconnect from their akumatized self, but that was the thing: they had created that akuma. They were the cause of their pain and so many others’ in Paris, and it was that blame and guilt that fueled Hawkmoth. It was a person’s greatest fear these days, getting akumatized. And all of the people she and Chat Noir had fought were, in the end, people who had lives to return to, and she didn’t know if they had the same support that her dad did.

Marinette had always wanted to get closer to the victims and comfort them as Ladybug and tell them that what happened to them wasn’t their fault—they hadn’t done anything wrong. All they did was be human and have feelings, and Hawkmoth punished them for that. But with the time limit that accompanied her Lucky Charm and the other parts of her life, she hadn’t managed to fit it in. But she promised herself that she would soon.

With this simple tradition, Marinette always felt a bit closer to her parents when they left. But as the floor-door closed, Marinette wiped off her tears and tied off this emotional string with a tight knot. She loved having these moments with her parents, but it was 11:58 and she had a job to do. 

Marinette was allowed to be an emotional mess, but Ladybug couldn’t afford to be distracted.


	3. Resting

Ladybug’s feet connected to the metal of the Eiffel Tower, and she stumbled before catching herself—she knew she had to or Chat Noir would. She didn’t need to give him another reason to say she was falling for him. 

“Sorry I’m late!” she panted, casually wiping away the tears she had shed along the way. Her voice was slightly more stuffy than usual. She hoped Chat wouldn’t notice.

He did anyway. 

“Not a problem, my lady,” he said smoothly, pulling out his baton to check the time. He hoped his nonchalance would relax her somewhat. “Three minutes. You’re practically not even late. Besides, you know I’d never go on patrol without you.”

“Never? And wait until your Miraculous runs out? That doesn’t sound like a very good plan.” 

“I’d still wait.”

“Stuck on the top of the Eiffel Tower _and_ detransformed? That really is some cat nonsense right there.”

Chat Noir eyed Ladybug and put his modeling skills to test, making it seem like he was staring at her lovingly—which he still was—but was also checking to see if she was okay. She didn’t seem to be in a bad mood—he had seen those days and this wasn’t it—but he was still worried that she had cried on her way here. He had been controlling how much flirting he did with her when she had expressed how she wasn’t interested in him early on, but the concern he was feeling, despite being tinged with his romantic feelings, was truly genuine for his partner. 

He reminded himself to ask her how she was feeling after they finished patrol. He doubted she would want to talk if he asked her now with how much she was trying to hide it. They were partners, after all, and they had to take care of each other. 

She raised an eyebrow at him. “You ready?”

“Whenever you are.”

They leaped off the Eiffel Tower at the same time, finding their rhythm together naturally. After two years of superhero-ing with each other, they found comfort in the way they worked. Sometimes there were conversations, and sometimes there wasn’t. This night was the latter. 

Their eyes scoured the city, searching for odd movements. Since it was a Sunday night, the streets were mostly empty. There were a few stray people still outside for a smoke, but there was nothing irregular about their patrol. 

Marinette was happy for the quiet, and she wondered if he could tell that she wasn’t in much of a talking mood. Although she was still alert, she was digesting what had happened during the day since Uncle Terrence arrived. Looking back, she realized how quiet her mom had gotten after she left to show her uncle around the house. When she was worried, she tended to be more quiet, so it didn’t concern Marinette too much, but she hoped her mom still was able to enjoy the company and celebration.

Adrien kept glancing over at Ladybug during their patrol. It wasn’t like that was out of the usual, though. He had never been able to keep his eyes off of Ladybug for very long—but that didn’t mean he didn’t pay attention during patrols! He loved seeing the way her lips scrunched together as she scanned the streets and the look of confusion that flashed across her face when she couldn’t tell if she saw what she thought she saw. But tonight, he watched her as he tried to figure out what to say to her afterwards. 

The two were quite open about their problems. They had to understand the other to be able to work well, which they learned pretty early on. Internalizing their personal issues messed up the way they fought, making them constantly out of sync. They might not have known each other’s names, but that seemed like such a petty detail compared to what they had to face. So while their daily patrol was to check in with Paris, it was also to check in with each other. 

They finished their rounds back on the Eiffel Tower, the night wind cooling them down. 

“Are you doing okay tonight, my lady?” Adrien asked during their moment of rest. 

This down time was when they caught their breath before parting, but it often turned into conversations that went well into the night. 

Marinette stopped her stretching for a moment and blinked, and Adrien marveled at how breathtakingly blue her eyes were. Goodness, he doubted he could ever get tired of looking at her. 

“Oh, I’m,” _okay_. The word teetered on her lips. Was she okay? “Better,” she finished. “I’m better than I have been in a while. And you?”

He breathed a laugh and dangled his legs off of the tower. “I’m doing normal. Normal enough. But I noticed you crying earlier, and I wanted to check in.” 

Marinette wrinkled her nose and took a seat next to him. “You did? Ugh, I was really trying to hide it!”

“You weren’t hiding it _that_ well. And I know we always say this a lot, but if there’s anything bothering you at all, you can talk to me about it, about anything. I’ll listen.”

She smiled. “Thank you, Chat. But, really, I’m okay. I had a really good day with my parents, and I haven’t been able to since…” She sighed and shook her head. “Since Hawkmoth became super active. I’ve been so tired because of school and _this_ , and even though I still am, I’m happy about it. Like, at least something good came out of all this, you know? 

A heavy feeling settled in Adrien’s chest as he remembered the days he’d have with his mother and father before she died. Back when they were a real family—well, as real as they could get for any Agreste family. Despite the weight, he was glad that Ladybug was happy. He, too, had certainly felt the exhaustion immediately hit him once Hawkmoth started sending out more akumas. He, too, preferred Ladybug to be the one to have a moment of relief from stressing about Paris. 

The two sat together in silence, staring out toward the familiar cityscape. Ladybug was the first to get back on her feet, and Chat Noir suppressed a sad sigh that their night together was coming to an end.

“I’ve got school tomorrow,” she said, startled that it was already almost three, “so I should get going. But, Chat?”

The blond boy looked up at the superhero. A part of him was wishing that she’d say she was going to give him a chance, that she had feelings for him. But there was no way. She’d made that very clear in the past. 

“I hope you feel really happy soon, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no, not puns and dialogue! my ultimate weaknesses!


	4. Reality Turns Red

Marinette woke the next morning to her loud alarm and a silent house. 

Tikki flew around Marinette’s head nervously, her antennae twitching erratically. 

“Something’s wrong,” the kwami worried as Marinette rubbed her eyes. 

She really should’ve come back from patrol earlier. She had only gotten four hours of sleep. On top of her regular tiredness, she knew that this was going to be a rough day. She could already hear the book slamming against her desk when she fell asleep in class again. 

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Marinette said, her voice still croaky. She wasn’t ready to think just yet. “Ugh, never let me stay out that late again. You should, like, start beeping to make sure I get home before three. I regret all of my decisions.”

As Marinette got ready in the bathroom, Tikki hovered in her room. 

She was an eternal being! She knew the feeling of destruction. After all, she had spent her entire existence being partnered with him! She didn’t feel Plagg’s presence nearby, but she recognized the signature of bad luck, the way it dimmed the light of the Dupain-Cheng household and left the aftertaste of a hurricane on the back of her tongue. Something had happened. 

But she couldn’t just _leave_ Marinette’s room to check it out! If Marinette noticed something and she wasn’t right there, that could also be trouble. But Tikki also knew that for the sake of her charge, she couldn’t let the girl find out whatever had happened alone. That would be a mess they could not afford to have. 

Marinette walked back in before Tikki could make a decision. The kwami sighed and settled onto Marinette’s desk. 

Now that Marinette was mostly awake, she did notice the house being… off. It was late enough that the bakery should’ve opened, but the permanent scent of bread was significantly lighter than usual. It was a Monday. Surely her parents wouldn’t have delayed opening the bakery—people loved getting bread on Mondays in particular. They would have to deal with annoyed customers later if they didn’t open on regular hours.

Marinette glanced at herself in the mirror, cursing her lack of sleep for causing the intense dark circles under her eyes. She didn’t normally wear makeup, but for the sake of starting the week with a fresh face and progressively getting worse as the days went on, she dabbed concealer onto the shadows. It didn’t completely get rid of the patches, but she looked alive now. 

After changing, she skipped down the stairs, backpack in hand and Tikki in purse. The kwami peeked out of the bag, grimacing as the dark aura grew stronger and wondered if Marinette felt the change. She did.

The kitchen was empty, completely untouched from the night before, and the warm smell of baked goods wasn’t there. The house smelled empty. It smelled like it had lost all of the personality that made her home _home._

“Mama? Papa?” Marinette called, setting her backpack down beside the stairs. “Uncle Terrence?”

Tikki cringed. She didn’t enjoy this at all. She flew out of her hiding spot now that they established that no one was around. 

“Something is _wrong_ ,” Tikki insisted. 

“They could just be out,” Marinette responded, trying her best to ignore the heavy pit in her stomach. Even to herself, her voice sounded too high and reedy. “Uncle Terrence isn’t staying here long. They could just be out,” she repeated. 

But Marinette’s feet drew her toward the hallway that her parents’ room and the guest room was down. It was still dark, only illuminated by the windows toward the open living room and kitchen. Her parents’ door was slightly open. Strange. It was only ever fully open or fully closed. 

She had unconsciously begun to drag her feet, her limbs automatically leadened, as if her body already knew something was behind the door. Something she didn’t want to see. 

“Marinette, maybe I should—”

“No.”

The sharpness in Marinette’s voice startled Tikki silent. And the girl couldn’t bring herself to apologize. She couldn't bring herself to say anything. 

_I have to make sure. This is something I have to do. I have to do this. I have to do this._

Marinette’s heart pounded as her emotions rushed through her. Tikki already knew something was wrong the moment they woke up, and Marinette hadn’t believed her. It was possible that she was just psyching herself out, but it was also very much possible that something bad had actually occurred while she slept. 

Marinette stood in front of her parents’ door, hand barely brushing against the doorknob, not daring herself to face what was behind it. She snatched her hand back, still feeling the cold brush of metal lingering on her fingertips. 

She licked her lips, trying to build up the confidence to just _push_ the door open. It was so simple, so why couldn’t she do it? She had gone into her parents’ room plenty of times before, so why only now was it so hard? Only now when it counted? 

She couldn’t do it. Marinette tugged at a pigtail. With that movement, her elbow hit the door, and it swung open enough for her to see inside. The hallway light didn’t filter into the room, so she flipped the light switch.

“Marinette, no!” Tikki exclaimed, having already identified what the feeling had been all this time. 

But it was too late. 

Marinette couldn’t turn around and pretend none of this had happened. The image of her parents and uncle dead had been seared into her mind, stitched into every cell to permanently remember. 

Just by looking at the room, Marinette could tell what happened. Uncle Terrence had come into her parents’ room in the middle of the night and targeted her dad first as he slept, slitting his neck and spilling their shared blood onto the small rug where he put his slippers. But he didn’t know that her mother was an extremely light sleeper, and she woke up to the sound of her husband dying, bleeding out on their bed. She looked to see who the attacker was and tried to defend herself, but Terrence was much larger and stronger than her. She didn’t die on the bed like her dad did. She was sprawled on the floor facedown, a puddle of blood beneath her body. Her tiny body in this large room. Her mother. 

And Terrence. Marinette couldn’t tell what had happened to him, but it was obvious he was the last to go. Further away from her parents, his body sagged into a chair. Blood still ran as the sound of thick dripping accompanied the scene. 

Marinette had frozen in place, her feet barely crossing the threshold. She wanted to run over there and check if they were still alive. Any chance was better than none at all. But her body refused to listen, cementing her in this spot. 

“Mama. Papa.” Her voice was light and lost, disbelief coloring all of her words.

Her legs gave out beneath her and she collapsed onto the floor, landing mere inches away from a stream of recently dried blood. 

“Tikki,” she mumbled, “was this an akuma?”

The kwami looked at her charge and shivered. She had never seen this expression on Marinette’s face before, and she never wanted to again. 

A soft smile graced Marinette’s lips, and her eyes were wide. She looked almost normal if tears had not been running down her cheeks. Although she looked directly at Tikki, her gaze was empty. Marinette was not inside. 

“No,” Tikki said. “It wasn’t.”

“Oh,” she breathed. “I don’t know if that’s worse… Are they still alive?”

The kwami felt the air. As Creation, she understood living beings on a level that no other could. But only Marinette’s pulse resonated back to her. She felt intense guilt as she shook her head at Marinette’s eager and hopeful gaze. 

“So that’s it then. It’s over.”

Marinette felt like she had sprinted through every street of Paris as her civilian self, the version that had no powers, no boosts, no magic. Just human. And every step was harder than the next. Her body felt like it was falling in on itself, refusing to hold her any longer. 

It was that moment that she remembered that Hawkmoth wasn’t the only enemy she had to face in life. There were others, sure, like Chloe and Lila, but they were in school where everything felt different—less permanent. Humans were sometimes just absolutely horrible. And unlike Hawkmoth when she got an alert when an akuma was sent out, she didn’t get one when a family member pulled a knife on her dad.

What use was it being a superhero if she couldn’t even help her own family?

“What are you doing?” Tikki asked in a panic, her voice warning.

Marinette’s hands had wandered to her ears, toying with the Miraculous that rested there. 

What was the point of having powers to save people when she couldn’t save anyone at all? People were bound to be akumatized because it was their own feelings that made Hawkmoth target them. She couldn’t save her dad. She couldn’t save her parents when it really counted. She couldn’t save anyone.

Tikki flew down to Marinette’s eye level. She had been with Marinette constantly and for long enough that she knew where her charge’s thoughts were going. 

“You are Ladybug, Marinette. You were chosen for this role, and Master Fu didn’t make a mistake. You—”

“There is nothing I can do.”

Every syllable felt heavy in her mouth, sinking into her tongue. She didn’t want to move. She didn’t want to move ever again. Her parents were gone. And they would stay gone. This wasn’t something that _Second Chance_ could save. This was something that nothing and no one could change. And it was her fault. If she hadn’t stayed out on patrol for so long, maybe she would have heard something. Maybe she would have been able to save her parents. 

Maybe they would still be alive if she hadn’t been so selfish and careless.


	5. The Empty Spaces Left By Her

Marinette didn’t remember the funeral. She didn't even know who had organized it or if she had even attended. 

She also didn’t remember if she had even been going on patrols for two weeks. Chat Noir probably thought she was the one who died. And either she had completely blocked out the memory of there even being an akuma, or there hadn’t been one since that night, since she didn’t remember that Tikki had said there had been none. It was like she and Hawkmoth were going through something at the same time that put a pause on their Miraculous use. 

The bakery had been closed since then. The smell of bread had thoroughly purged itself from the house—not that Marinette could tell. She had moved in with Alya since her house became a crime scene. Did she call the police that night? Did she go in for questioning? She couldn’t recall. 

She couldn’t recall much of anything these days. Just the bodies of her family sprawled in that room, bloody and grotesque, the faint look of sleep still lingering on her dad’s face. Just hours before, she’d seen them all smiling and laughing, blood inside of their veins instead of on the floor. Oh, how she hated it. How she couldn’t get their bodies out of her mind. How the crippling sense of blame whispered into her ear, injected itself into her bloodstream. How she could’ve been next if she hadn’t been on patrol. How she had not held on to them tighter. 

“How are you doing?” Alya quietly asked. She wasn’t expecting a response. 

She poked her head further through a crack in the door, staring worriedly at Marinette’s shrinking form curled up on the bed. Her eyes were open, but she didn’t acknowledge or even notice Alya’s presence. Alya and her mom had desperately been trying to get the girl to eat, but the little that went down came back up not long after. They didn’t stop trying, but Marinette’s body was working faster than they could feed her.

In the years that the two had known each other, Alya had never seen Marinette so defenseless, so given up. She was so used to the anxious girl who was always ready to protect anyone that the empty girl sitting on the Cesaire guest bed broke a part of her. Even though the Dupain-Cheng family had become her second home, she couldn’t imagine the pain that Marinette was going through. So she decided that the least she could do was make sure Marinette had a place to stay, food to eat, and a constant support system. Should she need anything else, Alya was ready to provide it. 

“I got you a new pot of water,” Alya continued kindly, maneuvering to the nightstand. “As a reminder, the tea bag is sitting right here. It’s hard, but do your best to stay hydrated, okay?”

The cold kettle was in her hand, but she set it back on the small table and sat on the floor, leaning against the bed. She wasn’t sure if Marinette was feeling lonely or wanted person-time, but her mom persuaded her that it was better to keep her company regardless. 

She sighed. “School was boring today,” she started. “And I miss you, Marinette. We all do. But we also know that this is hard, so hard, for you. And we’re all here if you need it. _I’m_ here if you need it. I say this every day, but I love you, Marinette. What happened wasn’t your fault. And when you’re ready, you can trust me, and I will listen.”

For the past two weeks, Alya had been saying almost the same thing to a spaced-out Marinette. She was a writer, but she couldn’t find another way to say it. Being direct in this situation, she had concluded, was better than using flowery language. If Marinette was listening to her, she’d understand without having to search for meanings in a complicated metaphor. 

Alya wanted to say more but didn’t know what. She wanted to talk about the lack of akumas during the last few weeks, but she deemed it too stressful for Marinette. After all, the girl always managed to disappear whenever an attack happened, and after her dad, Alya was sure that talk of any akuma was the last thing she wanted to hear. Alya hadn’t been with Marinette that day, but, boy, did she see _that_ akuma happen. She was sure everyone in France had seen the giant beanstalk suddenly form in the middle of the day.

Weredad had been one of the few akumas that stayed relatively out of the media’s sight, so there were few clear pictures of his form. From what Alya had seen, though, she couldn’t imagine how Marinette felt seeing her dad like that, all… barely human and, actually, really scary. The journalist part of Alya had been disappointed that she hadn’t been there to capture the moments of Chat Noir fighting alone for the majority of the time, but the friend part had been extremely worried about how Marinette and her dad felt afterwards, while the akumatized-victim part of her deeply sympathized with Tom Dupain. 

Alya and Marinette had grown so close during these last few years that she couldn’t bear seeing Marinette so broken down the way she was now. But every idea she had to potentially cheer the other girl up connected to her parents in some way. So, like all of the other days, she sat silently by Marinette’s side, occasionally rubbing the girl’s back in hopes that it gave her some comfort.

* * *

Gabriel had, once again, lied to Adrien about where he was. He had instructed Nathalie to let Adrien know that he was on a business trip to… a random country of her choosing. It wasn’t like it would affect anything anyways. He had been too excited to give her an answer once he saw the news of the passing of Marinette’s parents and uncle. And it had been without his interference! The news made him giddy and he had Nathalie cancel all of his upcoming plans. 

Gabriel had had his eyes on Marinette for a while, not long after the fashion competition he had held two years prior, though not because of the competition. It came as no surprise that the ever-elusive and annoying Ladybug was likely a student at Francoise-Dupont, which was where most of his akumas ended up finding their host. To his knowledge, Ladybug had no transportation powers, so however far she was from a particular location, she’d have to swing or run her way there. In various places in Paris, it’d sometimes take her nearly fifteen to thirty minutes to arrive on the scene, but in this school, she was there almost instantly. And she couldn’t work in one of the small businesses because Ladybug’s traveling time varied depending on the time of day, especially when school was in session. She arrived second fastest when the akuma appeared near the Dupain-Cheng bakery. So unless Ladybug was another student who lived in that area or was someone who had an extremely flexible work schedule, Marinette was his number one potential Ladybug. 

Plus, that girl had the creativity as he had seen from her designs at the competition and it paralleled the way Ladybug handled Lucky Charms. But other than that, he didn’t have too many leads.

Since the deaths of Marinette’s family, Gabriel had also realized that Ladybug and Chat Noir were slacking on their nightly patrols. It was common knowledge in the city that the superhero duo did daily checks on the streets, so even though Gabriel expected something to happen on Marinette’s end, he was still surprised when Nathalie showed him a tabloid about Chat Noir being seen patrolling alone a few days before the funeral. 

So if Marinette, and by extension Ladybug, was out of commission, why not just akumatize the city? Well, for one, he knew how hard it was to lose a family member, and although he wanted the Miraculous, if his theory was right, he wanted the student to have time to grieve. And if she was as distraught as he had been during the first three months of Emilie’s technical death, even if the world was falling to shit, nothing would bring her out of the empty stupor, so he’d only have Chat Noir’s Miraculous, and that wasn’t enough. He still wouldn’t get the confirmation he wanted on Ladybug’s identity.

So Gabriel had instead spent the last two weeks trying to make a plan to prove that Marinette was Ladybug and get that damn Miraculous. Nathalie said that doing so would prove to be extremely difficult and potentially futile, but she would still support him. So, now, in his butterfly lair, he tapped his staff against the ground to a slow beat. He just needed one good plan. And he was going to use his civilian identity to get it.

* * *

Patrols were lonely without Ladybug by Chat Noir’s side. They were a duo after all, yin and yang. One could not exist without the other, and Adrien certainly had been feeling like that for the last couple of weeks after Ladybug stopped showing up on the Eiffel Tower. 

Seeing Ladybug so happy, despite having come to patrol that day tearful, had relaxed Adrien that night. When he returned to his room after, he realized just how wound up Ladybug had been during the previous weeks. He had felt it in between the lulls of conversation and saw it in the bloodied corners of her lips where she had gnawed too hard and long. 

But the next night when his partner didn’t make an appearance, he felt the worry transfer into him. He had tried to reason himself out of all of the anxieties that muddled his brain, but it was uncharacteristic of Ladybug to just not appear without a warning! And although he didn’t want to admit it, he didn’t pay very good attention to the streets that night and cursed himself when the classroom buzzed about a mugging that happened during his patrol. And Marinette wasn’t in class that day or the next either. He had shrugged that off because the girl often came in a rush, bursting through the door with apologies before whispering to Alya that she had overslept. Of course, that was before he found out about her parents’ murder, which was revealed on Wednesday to the public. 

Since then, Adrien had been in a somber mood. He couldn’t help but remember when his mother died, leaving him with the fading memories of their time together, sure to disappear by the time he left for university no matter how hard he tried to hold on to them. Even now he couldn’t recall her voice. There were recordings, sure, from when she accompanied his father to red carpet events, but she never used her real voice. Not the one he was supposed to remember. 

He worried about how the memory loss would affect Marinette. To his knowledge, none of their classmates had experienced something so impactful, so he was the only one who knew what it was like to lose a parent to death, even though it had been under very different circumstances. 

The two of them had naturally gotten much closer over the years, so he hoped that Marinette would accept his support when he offered it. He also hoped she would return soon. The classroom aura had changed significantly. Even Chloe had sobered up a bit—Adrien had caught her glancing at Marinette’s empty seat multiple times over the second week when Marinette’s absence became particularly noticeable. 

But for every moment he worried about Marinette, it doubled for Ladybug. He knew Ladybug had a separate life outside of the costume, but every anxiety found its root in how she hadn’t notified him at all. She would never be so careless about something like that. It proved that whatever happened to her wasn’t planned. She had not expected anything to affect their patrol schedule. Once he came to that conclusion, every scenario soon became possible, no matter how fantastic. She could have been kidnapped by Hawkmoth or found herself bedridden in a hospital, completely unable to transform to let her cat in uncrime know she was unavailable. Or worse: she could have died.

That last one was the least likely for the only reason that Master Fu would have let Adrien know. Since he and Ladybug were chosen specifically because they balanced each other out, if something were to happen to one, the other wouldn’t be able to continue their superhero duties either. Master Fu would have to find a brand new Chat Noir and Ladybug. 

Adrien wasn’t sure when he’d see Marinette or Ladybug again, but he hoped that when he did, they would come back safe and sound. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing more people in his life.


	6. What Does It Mean to 'Be Ready?'

Tikki rested in Marinette’s cupped hands, speaking just loud enough for the girl to hear. This wasn’t the first time a charge of hers had to endure the death—well, in this case, deaths—of someone close to her. This, however, was the first time that Tikki herself had also felt close to the people who had perished. In previous timelines, the families of her charges were lukewarm at best. Plus, none of them had passed on the recipes of the delicious treats Marinette fed her. She’d gotten attached to mortals, and, sure, it had happened before, but not like this. 

“Will it always be this bad?” Marinette interrupted. Her eyes shined in the dim moonlight. 

Tikki blinked at her, momentarily stunned by the question. 

“No,” she finally said. “It won’t. It’ll take a long time to get to that point, and sometimes it will hurt like it does now and you’ll want to give up all over again, but you’re strong. And you’ve got so many people ready to support you. And me. I won’t let you go through this alone.”

Marinette’s gaze wandered to the window, where the curtains had been pulled back by Alya so there was some light during the day. She had gone on one day about needing vitamin D, but she was sure that it was so that she could be found underneath all of the blankets. The moon was partially covered by a cloud, and she sighed. She recalled all of the mooncakes she had made and eaten with her mother. They had even begun to sell them in the bakery, and her mom often scolded her for reaching into the glass case to snack on the pineapple-filled pastries. Although the mooncakes could be remade, the memories could not. Mama was gone. 

But Tikki did make a good point. People all around her were ready to help. She had heard Alya speaking to her most of the days, provided she was awake. She had never been more grateful to her, to her family. There were others, too, though. Like Tikki, her classmates, and Chat Noir.

Wait. Chat Noir? 

Tikki tensed at Marinette’s sudden stiffness. Was she okay?

“How long has it been?”

“Almost three weeks.”

“And I haven’t been on patrol this whole time?”

“You haven’t, no.”

She had disappeared for almost a whole month, and hadn’t even let Chat Noir know? 

“There hasn’t been an akuma, has there?” Her voice trembled.

“No. Hawkmoth’s been completely quiet.”

Tikki released a breath. She had been hesitant to leave Marinette’s side during the first week. But when the second week rolled around, she made the decision to pay Plagg a visit while Marinette napped. She wasn’t gone for long, but it was enough time to tell Plagg what was going on her side with Ladybug’s disappearance because of Marinette’s grief. But she had let him decide whether or not he wanted to hint to Adrien that the other half of the duo was safe, so she didn’t know if Adrien was still freaking out about Ladybug’s absence.

Marinette, on the other hand, had no idea that her kwami had gone ahead with the surprise visit. 

She sat up and ran a hand through her greasy hair, attempting to comb out the biggest knots with her fingers. 

“He probably thinks I’m dead or something,” she muttered. “I gotta check on him. I gotta let him know—”

“Marinette, it’s late.” Tikki landed on a button on her phone from the nightstand. The light burned Marinette’s eyes, but the time was clear. Saturday, 4AM. “He’s definitely not out patrolling now. He can wait another day. It’s okay.”

The girl tugged hard on a section of hair out of frustration and to untangle a particularly stubborn knot. “Time keeps going, and what have I done other than make everyone wait for me? I’ve just been laying here! And I can’t do anything! I know I’ve gotta get up, but I can’t. I don’t want to move, I don’t want… I don’t want a life without my parents.”

She fell back onto the bed and pulled the blanket over her head. She held back the tears that were just barely clinging onto her eyelashes. What would crying do anyways? It wouldn’t bring back her parents. It would just make her more irked that she wasn’t doing anything. That she hadn’t been doing anything. That she still didn’t want to do anything except melt into the sheets and become part of the mattress. 

She hadn’t been feeling anything for the last three weeks, and now it was all hitting her. She wanted to go back. 

“You’re allowed to take your time and feel everything.” Tikki settled on a pillow beside Marinette. “It’s okay to not be able to do anything for a while. You’re not going to get in trouble for it.”

As Tikki’s words reached Marinette’s ears, the girl’s shoulders relaxed and she wept. 

* * *

Late the next morning, late enough that it was one in the afternoon, Alya gently shook Marinette awake.

She and her mother initially debated what to give their guest for food. After learning that she would barely eat, even when food was put directly in front of her, they knew they had to start giving her light foods. But they couldn’t give her toast or anything—Alya knew anything made of flour would instantly remind Marinette of her parents. They finally settled on fruit. With as little as Marinette was eating and drinking, it was the next best thing after soup that would require little effort on the eater’s part. Today was a bowl of sliced apples, bananas, and grapes. 

Alya hoped that Marinette would finish the portion again as she had for the two weeks. What she didn’t know was that for the first of the two weeks “Marinette” had been finishing the fruit, it had actually been Tikki. Although the kwami didn’t require any nourishment to keep existing when she wasn’t transformed, she felt so bad after seeing the fruit left out day after day that she began to eat it. Soon, Marinette began to as well. 

With sleep still fogging her mind, Marinette rolled over. Her lips were halfway to calling out her kwami’s name before stopping herself at the sight of her best friend. She stifled a sigh of relief that she had stopped herself in time. She was extremely grateful for the Cesaires, but that could have ended badly. 

“You’re waking me up today,” she mumbled, the loudest she could get her voice without cracking. 

Alya waved a slice of apple at her. “I sure am. How are you feeling today? You’re actually…”

“Talking?” She plucked the apple out of Alya’s grasp and dropped it into her mouth. “I guess I’m doing a little better than the last few days.” But w _ho knows how long this will last._

“I’m glad. If you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here for you. This home is your home.” 

Marinette wanted to feel a smile tug at her lips, that would’ve been her natural reaction, but wasn’t nearly able to get it out. It still felt like too much. Like she didn’t deserve to smile. “Thank you,” she said. 

Alya positioned herself cross-legged on the floor, back against the nightstand. For a while, she didn’t say anything, and neither did Marinette. 

“I think I want to go back to school,” Marinette mumbled, mouth half covered up by the blankets. 

Alya blinked and looked up. “Okay.”

“You don’t think I’m ready, do you?”

“I think I can’t make that decision for you. If you believe you’re ready and want to go back, how can I stop you?” Alya fiddled with her glasses behind her ear. “Why, though?”

“I don’t think I can stay like this.” Marinette sighed and kicked around the blankets, finding a pocket where she could put her feet in. “I don’t know. I don’t really want to go. But what is there for me to do? I don’t know.” She felt the tears rising again, but not so much the actual tears than the feeling of just having so much inside of herself that she didn’t know how to handle it all. 

“You don’t have to rush yourself,” Alya said. 

“I know that,” she couldn’t help but snap. “But there’s nothing else I can do. I don’t _have_ my parents anymore. They’re gone!” _And I’m only 16. I’m not supposed to do all this alone. I can’t._

Alya looked on helplessly. “Tomorrow, then,” she began. “Tomorrow, get ready with me like you’re going to school. Jumping in too fast won’t help. Start a routine again, a new one, and we’ll go from there. Okay?”

Marinette peeked out from the covers. “Yeah.”

* * *

Marinette dragged herself out of bed extra early the next day. She took a long, proper shower and changed into clean clothes. She was just finishing blow drying her hair when Alya knocked on the bathroom door, hair in knots and sleep still in her eyes. 

“Morning!”

“Morning. You’re up really early,” Alya said. “Like really early. When did you get up?”

“Not sure. The sun was just coming up, though.”

“That early?”

Marinette reached for a comb, and Alya held her tongue. Marinette’s parents were always up around then, sometimes even before the sunrise, to start baking and preparing for the day. On days Marinette was able to, she helped them and sometimes made her own treats. It was only natural that internally, her clock was still used to that schedule. It was a strange idea to Alya, since both her parents left quietly in the early morning and arrived quietly late at night. They were all close, of course, but that was why all her siblings took care of each other. 

While Alya was in the bathroom, Marinette went back to the guest room. She wasn’t sure she could handle being alone and sat on the floor with Tikki.

“You’re not going anywhere, you know,” Tikki said. “This is just a practice run—and a really good idea on Alya’s part. You gotta get back on your feet and be ready to go back into life.”

“When will I know, though?”

Tikki thought for a moment, flying in a vague shape. “When you start going back on patrol.”

 _Chat…_ She kept forgetting her partner. She hadn’t transformed at all, so she hadn’t been in touch with him since that night—no! Marinette shook her head wildly, pulling at her hair, trying to make herself dizzy so she wouldn’t remember. Her nearly dried hair began to tangle.

“Marinette?” Tikki flew close to the girl’s shoulder, but she heard footsteps in the hall, too close, and zoomed behind Marinette, hiding between her back and the bed. 

A knock at the door. “Hey, Marinette, you ready for breakfast?” Alya called. After a moment of no answer, she opened the door. The moment she saw her friend shaking on the floor, her heart dropped. She rushed over, kneeling beside her while keeping a good enough space between them. 

“Hey, hey, hey, you’re okay.” Her instinct was to put her hand on Marinette’s back; that was how her mother was able to calm her down. But Alya wasn’t sure how it was for Marinette. Was she okay with being touched right now? She had been in the past, but now? She didn’t know. Would it remind her of her parents’ hugs? But would a hug help in this situation? 

A memory flashed in Alya’s mind, a time she had been around when Marinette had a panic attack. At that time, she had wondered the same questions she was right then. She had eventually given in and slowly rubbed Marinette’s back. Later that day, Marinette texted her that it had helped a lot to ground her, even if it didn’t seem like it did much in the moment. 

But while that tactic might have worked then, there was no guarantee that would help Marinette now. It could make Marinette feel worse, and that was the last thing Alya wanted. 

“Hey, Marinette,” Alya swallowed hard and made her voice soft, “I’m going to put my hand on your back, okay?”

As she thought would happen, Marinette didn’t respond. Her hand was shaky, and she cursed that she couldn’t be calm for Marinette. The least she could do was be a rock for her during this time.

She gently placed her hand on Marinette’s upper back, noting how she trembled, and slowly began to trace circles. She was startled once again by how small Marinette had become. She’d always been small, but in a couple of weeks, she had shrunk into herself. 

“You’re okay,” she repeated. “You’re okay.”


	7. Empty Words, Full Hearts

Alya and Marinette sat on the living room couch together, wordlessly eating through their bowls of fruit. 

Marinette was still shaken, but she’d brushed her hair and washed her face again, so anyone who saw her would think that she was okay. But “anyone” was really limited to the Cesaire family, since she still had nowhere to go. It had taken her a while for her breathing to return to normal and remember that she was no longer at the scene. She lived through it, even though no one else had. She wished she hadn’t either. 

Alya had asked her if there was anything she wanted to eat, but there wasn’t. She hadn’t been wanting to eat anyway but needed to keep up the charade of getting better and that she had been eating—how else was she supposed to explain the empty bowls without mentioning Tikki? But the food did help her feel better, less lightheaded, and she appreciated that. But her mind was clearer, and she wasn’t sure if she liked that. It made life a little too sharp. 

But Alya was happy to see Marinette eat. She, too, was still recovering. She absolutely _had_ to be there for Marinette. After all, what was her pain compared to Marinette’s? She still had both parents and all of her sisters. Marinette had no one. At the funeral, only her grandma made an appearance, but she left before the service was over. 

Alya knew that Marinette didn’t have an exceptionally large family, but she did have a few extended family members, but they all lived pretty far from Paris. The funeral had been a scary surprise and didn’t give people nearly enough time to find their way to the city. And based on how Marinette had been doing until the last couple of days, Alya doubted that Marinette remembered the funeral at all, which she was right about. She didn’t want her to remember it anyway.

As Alya chased around the last grape with her fork, the doorbell rang. The grape leaped out of the bowl. 

Marinette gave Alya a questioning look. 

Alya returned a shrug and set down her bowl. “It’s too early. We shouldn’t be expecting anyone.”

She went and opened the door without a second thought. Maybe it was her mom or dad forgetting something before the day got too late. Or a package. Sometimes they rang the doorbell for that.

Instead, she was faced with a towering man, one whose face she was well accustomed to, mostly through Marinette: Gabriel Agreste. His presence was more terrifying in the flesh. 

She gave him a polite smile, but the hand still on the doorknob tightened. “Oh! Monsieur Agreste, how can I help you?” 

At the mention of Agreste, Marinette’s head snapped toward the door. The door was in the way, so she couldn’t see neither Alya’s face nor who she was talking to, but based on the title, it had to be Adrien’s father. What was he doing here? She’d had very limited interaction with him, but he was still her idol. He was the one who showed her what fashion could be and that there were no limits to fashion if she simply believed that there weren’t. His designs were immaculate and ever-inspiring. But none of that explained what he was doing at Alya’s house. 

“Alya Cesaire, I presume? I was informed that Marinette Dupain-Cheng was staying with you. I have a proposition to make with her.”

“A proposition?” She put her free hand on her hip and narrowed her eyes. “What is it?”

“I would like to speak with her privately. Is she in?”

“What you need to say to her, you can say to me.”’

“It’s something that will work majorly in her favor in light of recent events.”

Neither of them backed down, seemingly empowered by the presence of the other. Why was a teenager being so petulant to him? He was Gabriel Agreste! But it was because of that attitude that Alya refused to see him in. Who did he think he was? Just because he was a bigshot fashion designer didn’t give him a pass to finding out where she lived and demanding to speak to Marinette. 

“Alya,” Marinette called from her spot on the couch. She might not have been able to see either of them, but she had heard their jabbing words clearly. Her friend poked her head back inside with a frown, as if already expecting Marinette’s next words. “Let him in.”

“Fine.” She opened the door wider. She made her voice as cold as she could. “Please, come in. Have a seat.” 

“Thank you, Alya. Ah,” he slid past her and saw Marinette. He gave her a smile, but it was chillier than Alya’s voice. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng, I’m pleased to make your acquaintance once again.”

* * *

Alya had insisted on staying, but Marinette had insisted that she go to school, assuring that she would be able to handle anything that went down. But Alya had picked up her cell phone and dialed her mom, who, despite being in the middle of meal preparations, nearly dove for her phone once she saw the caller ID. 

A few tense moments later as Gabriel Agreste sat quietly on the Cesaires’ couch, the two girls returned from the kitchen with cups of tea. Alya had a slight puffed-out look to her, while Marinette’s frown had gotten deeper.

“So, what is it that you want to talk to me about?” Marinette said, once she had settled in with a mug clutched in her hands to keep them from shaking.

Just because he was her idol didn’t mean she wasn’t terrified of him—that also didn’t stop her from hating how he treated Adrien. His achievements in the fashion world were great, but his character overshadowed an even greater deal of them. 

Gabriel sipped from the cup slowly. Earl gray. It _was_ much more of a morning flavor, after all. “I wanted to offer my condolences about your parents.” Alya’s eyes narrowed, and Marinette’s dropped to stare at the tea swirling in her cup. “I, too, have lost someone I love dearly, and I know how much it hurts. I want to ask what is your living situation right now?”

“Living situation?” Marinette repeated, eyebrows creasing. “I’ve been living here.”

“Then it is as I expected. Have you heard of the Gabriel Agreste Foundation?”

She was a fan of his and his son’s. Of course she had. “Yes,” she glanced at Alya. “It helps fund students and aspiring artists to pursue their dreams with scholarships and provides materials for their medium, whatever it is.”

“Correct. And we’re extending it to you. You will work as a design intern in my company—paid, obviously—and we will provide you with housing.”

“An internship?”

“Housing?”

He acknowledged Marinette’s question first. “It will be rigorous, but we will be accommodating to your situation, including your schoolwork. You will work closely with the head designer and I, and we will feature a special collection especially for you. As for housing, I am arranging the guest wing of the Agreste manor to open for you to stay. Murder is a high crime, and even if the perpetrator no longer breathes, at the manor, you’ll be provided with the best around-the-clock security and personnel.”

Alya nudged Marinette without bothering to be discreet. “This is a scam, isn’t it?” Her voice was so harsh the words came out more as a threat than a question. 

“Alya, please,” Marinette reached for Alya’s hand even though hers were still shaking. 

The two exchanged looks, and Alya couldn’t help but mouth _Adrien_ , hoping that would shake Marinette and bring back doubt about the situation. He was offering to take in another child when he couldn’t even properly take care of his one own. And to what? Mold her into his image? 

But Marinette was hopeful, and she knew that holding onto that was, in this situation, probably going to make her suffer more. But she needed something to cling to. If what Gabriel said was true—which it was, but he wasn’t going to tell them exactly why he had made this decision—this could jump start her career, put her in the perfect position to learn what she needed about the industry and make connections—all at sixteen! But she heard Alya’s doubts; the timing of it all including how he had chosen her was too strange.

“Why include housing?” she asked. 

“I had assumed, prior to coming here, that you did not have stable housing, which is far from the proper environment for a growing artist and student to have to endure. You will have easy access to supplies and a well-sized workplace, fitting for long nights, and, as mentioned earlier, you’ll have constant security. As for more information about the internship, we will also cover medical, including therapy, costs and any supplies and materials you need or want.”

Marinette swallowed. That was all so much, and a part of her knew that she should say no, and how _easy_ it was to say just a single syllable, but it wouldn’t come out of her mouth. Her parents would hate it too, but they’d know how much this opportunity could help her, and how much it’d mean to her, despite Gabriel Agreste being an abhorrent man. 

She felt a burst of energy course through her at the thought of her parents. She was well aware of Gabriel’s status and if he began to dislike her, he could prevent her from ever becoming a name in fashion when she graduated if he wanted to, but it didn’t matter to her. “And what is it that you want from me? There are others, I’m sure, that deserve the position more, but they don’t bring in the publicity that you’d get from me, right? Me, the poor orphan girl, suddenly being offered a position in Gabriel.”

He observed her and nodded. In order to win her over, he had to be as transparent as he could. “Yes, you do provide publicity for our brand, but you were also the one who won one of my competitions when you were 13, weren’t you? I do remember that—the pigeon hat if I recall correctly. You had competed against all ages in one group—a good amount were older than you were—yet you were the one who won. Besides, Gabriel is arguably the biggest name in fashion right now, and while it’d be good to have more publicity, we certainly don’t need it. However, we always welcome designers with potential.” He eyed her outfit. She was a teenager after all, and he didn’t doubt that she sought more validation from big names such as him. He nodded at her jacket. “You made that, didn’t you? The fabric is relatively cheap, yet the way you managed to stitch it so cleanly makes it look much more high quality. The lines are very neat and incredibly even, rare for someone your age since it takes so long to master.”

Marinette forced the excitement down. She was being directly complemented by Gabriel Agreste! But it didn’t and really shouldn’t matter—

“I noticed these same details during that competition, even before it was revealed who the true designer was, along with the care with which you handled the fabric and the ingenuity behind the design. You’ve improved since then—yes, you have. But from this, you see, Marinette, it’s what you can bring to Gabriel that can help us. And we can provide you with experience and high quality materials and an entrance into the industry.”

Gabriel, of course, didn’t remember any of this about Marinette until he’d devised the plan to bring her into the Agreste residence—he’d actually forgotten about that competition completely. He had Natalie dig up any and all information she could about the girl and how she had interacted in school and with his company. He’d never put this much effort and thought into trying to recruit someone, but with the hypothesis that Marinette was Ladybug, he would do this and more if he had to. 

Marinette avoided looking at Alya. It was so fast, and her parents’ deaths were so new that it still felt like she couldn’t possibly do anything without them and needed something extra to propel her. _This_ was that extra something. But perhaps she should think it over. She hadn’t even decided when she’d be going back to school, and she knew she had to sometime, but if she couldn’t handle that decision, maybe she should wait on this much larger one. 

“I’d like to get back to you,” she said finally, her voice curt. 

A part of Gabriel had expected this to happen, sourness creeping through him, but he had still hoped she’d be easier to convince. “Of course,” he said, inserting more pleasantness into his voice than he felt. “Take as much time as you need.” He took a business card out of his inner pocket and handed it to her as he stood up. “I don’t give out my private number, so the number goes to my assistant, Natalie. Give her a call once you’ve decided.” He turned to Alya who still had her arms crossed and glared suspiciously at him. “Thank you for the tea. I’ll see myself out.”

* * *

“Hey,” Alya set her mug down on the table. “You can’t really think all of this is… _real_ , can you? An—And even if it is, he’s not a good person, Marinette. The things he does to his son? You think he won’t go to the ends to do that to you?”

Marinette gripped her cup tighter. The feeling had left her hands long ago, and the tea had long since cooled. “I know.” She looked up, a stubborn, fierce look in her eyes. “You really think I don’t? Of course I do! But this, what this could do for me? Oh, Alya, I want to say no to him—if it was anyone but _Gabriel Agreste_ , I think my answer would leave my mouth faster than I could think it—and I know, _I know_ all the shit he’s done. But even for a little bit, he could help me so much! Alya,” she paused and smiled a tiny, sad smile, “ _I have no one_. I keep telling myself this, thinking that maybe, this time I will have my parents back! It never works. I’m left with the same answer that, yes, I do have you, but it’s not nearly the same. You aren’t my parents,” her voice broke, “and I’m so happy you’re here with me, but it doesn’t change that my parents are _gone._ ”

She inhaled a deep, shuddering breath that pained her chest and left her feeling hollow. “None of my other family members came to collect me at the funeral, apparently. I don’t blame them—wouldn’t want someone who has a murderer in her bloodline—so this is it for me.”

Her words struck Alya in a way she wasn’t prepared for, like suddenly, it was _her_ parents that had been killed, and for a moment, she knew how Marinette felt. She thought she had accepted that she could never come close to replacing what Marinette’s parents had done for her, what they were to her, but with it being said directly to her, with so much pain, she realized she thought she could have been that for Marinette. She couldn’t. Alya had only been friends with her for a few years, and her parents had been with her as an only child every step of the way. And Alya had never seen more loving and open parents than Marinette’s. No, this wasn’t something she could simply do on her own. She might not have been able to have the same supporting impact on Marinette’s career, but that didn’t mean she could leave her alone or that she even was alone. But how? How to make that come across?

“I don’t think you shouldn’t accept,” she began shyly, incredibly unlike her, but she was so scared of saying something wrong, “but you should go in with reservations. You can never be too wary of Gabriel Agreste. This is a big opportunity for you, and I want you to succeed, but I worry. I trust you, but he’s not a good person so who knows what he’ll do. Just be careful, okay?”

Marinette nodded, her hair falling forward and covering the portion of her face that Alya could see. “I know. He’s not a nice person, and I know.”

“You’re still a minor; he can’t force you to stay if it gets to be too much.”

“I know.”

“Please,” Alya began and realized her throat had closed up and she had started to cry, “be safe.”

The energy still left in Marinette suddenly deflated, and her shoulders fell. She, too, was now crying, but unlike Alya, she knew why. This moment of Alya telling her to be careful and to mind what she was doing, this moment was supposed to happen with her parents. And it never would. This was the closest but not the furthest she would get from them, realizing that all of these things that were supposed to happen with them would simply be her including them mentally. Maybe she’d forget to one day. They wouldn’t be physically there anymore, no warm hugs, no goodnight, no I love yous. 

It hit her then, the absoluteness of death, the complete definity. It had been hovering over her head for weeks, when she’d been wallowing in the absurdness of the situation she had found herself in. Now, though, the aloneness of it all was falling down on her. No hug would feel the same—she’d forget the feeling of their arms around her eventually and the steady beat of their hearts when she laid her head against their chests—and no voice would have the same inflections and hold the same tenderness as her mother and father’s voices. She had videos of them telling her this, of course, so she’d never forget what they sounded like. But the memories would fade, she would subconsciously begin inserting details where there hadn’t been before in order to make herself feel whole again. Those, too, would fade with time. The pain, she was sure, would lessen, a dull ache constantly in the back of her mind that she could push away if she tried hard enough, but these small things would be forgotten until there was an empty hole she wouldn’t be sure how they got there or how to fill. 

Here and now, _this_ was being alone. This was loneliness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading so far! i mentioned this in ch1, but all the chapters on will have been written in 2021-later. ch1-7 were written in 2019, but i didn't know how to continue. i've published it on here to get more motivation, and so far, it's been working!
> 
> for updates ch8 and on, the style will be different—in a good way.


	8. In Knowing Oneself

Marinette was back to school in the next week. Although she didn’t really talk to anyone outside of her class, it seemed that everyone knew her. She felt their stares penetrating her skin as she walked to the classroom with Alya holding her hand. She was holding it too tightly, but Alya knew it wasn’t a good time to let Marinette know that. She was there for support, and she’d walked through these halls fine during the last month. But that didn’t mean she liked the attention. 

Alya was exhausting herself with caring for Marinette, but she didn’t know how to stop. This girl was all alone in the world, and she’d accepted that, but it didn’t stop her from trying to fill all those holes by herself. Doing that was impossible, a reasonable part of her knew, but she couldn’t help but try. 

She’d set a limit: She’d do it, draining herself, until Marinette found a place and more people with whom she could be stable. It sounded reasonable enough. Maybe it’d happen sooner than she expected with Marinette’s pending acceptance for the internship with Gabriel. But Marinette’s problems were more prevalent between the two of them, more horrible and horrific. And Alya couldn’t let herself get in the way of that grieving process. It was delicate, she knew, though she didn’t know how much. Soon, she promised herself, soon she’d find time for herself—make herself more  _ herself _ again. But until then, being at school was the first step to getting Marinette back out into the world. Back to being normal.

It was strange for her too, walking within these halls. She hadn’t had weeks-long of break the way Marinette did, but when she was by her side, all the attention was on the two of them. It was uncomfortable.

Marinette wondered if this was what Adrien felt like, being ogled at every angle, at every moment. It happened to her when she was in the suit, but that was Ladybug. Ladybug had a mask, had all the things necessary to protect who she was, as well as the chaos that was typically happening when she was in the public eye. But here, like this, it was like she was naked. 

The classroom wasn’t any better.

With Marinette in the front row as the result of a new seating arrangement—Alya’s mother had insisted she sit at the front so any teachers would be able to see any sign of distress early on—everyone was able to see her, and she was able to feel all of them. 

The teachers acted almost indifferent, if not for the glances they sent her way mid-lecture. She noticed all of them.

But like the hallway, the students didn’t hide how they felt. During breaks, she noticed Chloe standing to the side with Sabrina. The two had guilty expressions and whispered to each other in a timid way Chloe had never been known to show. But the other students crowded around Marinette and Alya’s shared desk, handing Marinette cards and offering her sympathetic smiles. They didn’t pry, didn’t say anything that would hint at death, but they were uneasy. Their smiles were carefully bright and voices a controlled volume. They were tip-toeing around Marinette, and she didn’t like that. She wanted the classmates she could laugh at dumb jokes with, even when laughing didn’t feel possible. 

She hated that they were different with her. And she hated that she knew she was different now. 

After the final bell, Marinette stayed at her desk for a little while longer, waiting for Alya to come back from the bathroom and for the student rush to end. They both believed the chaos would be a little too much for her to handle for now. She’d taken out her earbuds from her bag to plug them into her phone, but a figure appeared in front of her and slid a comic book across the desk.

“Hey,” Adrien offered her a smile. 

Marinette looked up suddenly, surprised that the room wasn’t empty yet. She could have sworn everyone had already left. “Hi.”

“My dad told me about the foundation, what he’s trying to do. Have you thought about it?” His voice was gentle, like he was talking to a former self, a person who needed to be reminded of what life had in store. 

“I,” she hesitated. What did she have to lose in telling him? She knew she was going to accept, just didn’t know when. “I have. I feel like it’s a lot to ask, moving in with you guys. I mean, I’m sure you’re busy like all the time, and I’ll just be another person to bother you—”

Adrien shook his head. “No, that’s nothing to worry about. I just wanted to let you know that I… kind of know how it feels. Reading helped me—I don’t know if it will for you. It might not and that’s okay but I like this one a lot. Um, let me know if there’s anything I can do.” He grinned awkwardly and waved before walking out the classroom. 

She watched him leave, her heart still hammering in her chest. She caught a glimpse of a red hat, leaning against the wall beside the door. She wondered if Nino had known if Adrien was going to do this. She hadn’t felt so nervous talking to him in ages after they’d gotten closer. Now, a warm sense of kinship bloomed in her, reminding her that, yeah, there were other people. She’d forgotten about Adrien’s mother and how for the longest time, he didn’t know if she had run away or died and spent years hoping that one day she’d show up again. He hadn’t expected a death certificate.

Their situations were different, but the sense of loss was the same, the same torn-out hole in their souls, the one they were still working on repairing, just in different stages. 

But when she noticed Alya through the window, she grabbed the book and stuffed it in her bag. For some reason, fear grabbed her at the thought of her friend noticing the gift. It didn’t make sense—why would she be afraid of Alya finding out?—but she was already back to untangling her earbud wires, panic still burning the base of her throat. 

“Ready to go home?”

Marinette nodded and gathered her things. As they descended the steps at the front of the school, she said, “I think I can keep doing this.”

“That’s good. One step at a time. It was really awkward with Chloe and Sabrina, though, wasn’t it? I’ve never seen them so—”

“Quiet?” Marinette finished, a smile beginning to creep on her face. “It was strange. I think I like the normal Chloe better. This one makes me feel like…  _ I’m _ the one who did something wrong.”

“You didn’t,” Alya said sharply. 

“I know.” Marinette was startled. She hadn’t meant what she said to come off so serious. She wondered if Alya was like the others, becoming too sensitive to the things she said now. She wondered how much Alya would tip toe around her too. She already was, but would she do more? If she showed any signs of not progressing through the grief or in her work, would she get more protective? Watching over Marinette like she could crack at any moment, whether it was into tears or into a breakdown?

Would she lose her best friend over all of this? Would she be left alone? It felt like there was a timer, ticking to her last days of being seen and talked to like a real person.

It was too fast for everything to go back to normal, she knew. She didn’t even feel quite normal yet, so she couldn’t have those same expectations for anyone else. But just because she was a little different, a little more reserved, did that mean everyone had to change to her too? Why? Why couldn’t they just see who she was, that things had happened to her—bad things—but she was still herself. She was still Marinette. 

Cars rushed past them as they walked along the sidewalk. 

“How are you going to tell him?” Alya asked. She didn’t need to say who. Marinette already knew she meant Gabriel.

“I think I’m just going to call him, or, well, his assistant.” She’d kept the business card on her nightstand. She hadn’t been able to sleep the night after he visited and spent till sunrise staring at it, at the matte paper, so soft it felt like fabric, the way his number was imprinted with bold, black ink. It gave off the same intimidating aura he did. “Do you think I’ll do well?”

“I’m sure you will. There’s no one better suited to it.” As she said it, Alya could hear the sourness of jealousy in her voice. Why? She should have no reason to be upset with Marinette leaving. It was for her dream! Why couldn’t she just support her the way a good friend should? 

But Marinette didn’t notice. On a normal day, she might’ve. But her mind was too preoccupied with Adrien. They’d be living together soon. She wondered if it’d be like a hotel, where there were other guests, but they lived their lives completely separate, only occasionally passing each other in the hallway, not even nodding to acknowledge the other’s existence. She doubted it’d be like being in Alya’s home, where there was always laughter and voices. Feet would pound against the carpeted floor, back and forth as Alya chased the twins from her room to theirs in an attempt to get them to go to bed. Silence was something that only came at night. But Gabriel didn’t seem the type to have a house like that. 

Cold. That was what she expected. That was the environment Adrien had grown up in, and it was likely the only one he knew of. The absence of everything but picture-perfect interior design, wonderfully put together and incredibly void of anything personal or real. 

Gone were the golden walls of late-afternoon sun and tops of freshly baked bread. The warmth that had constantly surrounded her through childhood, through teenagerdom. She’d have to adapt, wouldn’t she? Have to see what the world was like, what the intensity of the fashion industry was like, the hard exterior it fostered. She’d have to play into it to succeed.

She only hoped she didn’t lose herself in it. 


	9. (Un?)Deserved Guilt

“Hello, you’ve reached the office of Gabriel Agreste. Nathalie Sancoeur speaking.”

Marinette swallowed hard. She’d called knowing that she might end up choking up, and she was right. Now that she needed to speak, it felt like she’d forgotten how to use her mouth, as if she’d never spoken before. The sun shined through the window in her room, and she tried to focus on the warmth and get her voice to work. 

“Hello?”

“Hi. Um, This is Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the student who’s been offered an internship from the Gabriel Agreste Foundation? And Monsieur Gabriel Agreste gave me this number to call?”

“Ah, yes. We’ve been waiting for your call. Have you made your decision?”

Marinette’s grip on her cellphone tightened. “I have. When do I start?”

“Well, firstly, we appreciate you taking the time to think about and accept the offer, and we welcome you to the team. It could take a bit for you to fill in all of the necessary paperwork, but we anticipate it’ll take less than two weeks for all of it to be completed and processed.

“That being said, you’re still a minor and, therefore, you need a legal guardian to put on file. Do you have anyone in the area? Otherwise, for the time being, we could put Monsieur Agreste down, since you’ll also be moving into the Agreste manor.”

“Oh,” Marinette mumbled. She didn’t have any family members in the area—the closest at this point were Alya’s parents and Master Fu, but she didn’t want to put any strain on them. She already felt herself distancing from Alya after the first day she returned to school. And if her relationship with Master Fu was questioned at all, she could compromise all of their identities and the Miraculous. And having Gabriel Agreste as her legal guardian also sounded pretty horrible. She didn’t know how much power legal guardians had, but as an employee in his company, she didn’t want to think about those possibilities any more than she had to. He was the best choice, but she didn’t want him to be.

“Marinette, are you still there?”

“Oh, yes, I am. I’m not really sure I really have a legal guardian right now.”

“I’ll put Monsieur Agreste down for now. If anyone comes to mind, let me know and I’ll change the contact information.” 

“Okay… Do you know when I’ll be moving in?”

“Now that you’ve officially accepted the offer, Monsieur Agreste will contact you directly. He’ll let you know what the timeline is for moving in and other things on the household end. The mansion is almost ready, so by the time all of the paperwork is finished, preparations for you should be too.”

“Oh, okay. That’s good to know then.”

 _Two weeks_. That was all she had left at the Cesaires’ house, all she had left before she went on Gabriel time. She wondered briefly again what it’d be like to live with Adrien. There had been a time when she knew what his schedule was like, but she also knew that his fame had skyrocketed in the last few years since he moved from children’s modeling to the adult side of the industry. He was still the face of Gabriel, but it was different now that he was able to model for the main department. That meant he had become even busier—all while still being a full-time student. Marinette began to feel bad again for potentially making his already-complicated home life even more complicated.

“Do you have any other questions? I’ll email you the paperwork after the call.”

“Um, no? I don’t think so.”

“If any come up, just call me or reply to the email I’ll be sending.”

“Okay, thank you!”

“You’re welcome, Marinette. And welcome to the team.”

 _Team, huh?_ Marinette smiled bitterly, remembering she was already part of a team, a duo. Not that she’d been active in it in over a month. Guilt pulled at her harder now. How was Chat doing? She hadn’t even transformed in weeks. She looked over at Tikki, who was taking a nap on her desk. She knew that Tikki had been in contact with Plagg, but she didn’t know how often.

She had been trying not to think of Ladybug, of Chat, of all the Miraculous duties she was shirking on. Remembering that it was her devotion to being Ladybug that led to her negligence of her parents made it hard to see being Ladybug a good thing. How much longer could she hide from her partner?

There hadn’t been any akumas, which was incredibly strange with Hawkmoth’s overactive presence before her parents’ deaths. At least she didn’t have to feel entirely horrible. But she wondered if there was an akuma, would she transform? Would it get her out of this state she couldn’t get herself out of? Or would putting on the suit make all of the memories of that night return? 

Marinette sighed and pushed herself off of the bed. Alya was sitting on the couch in the living room with earphones on, bopping her head quietly as she worked on homework that Marinette had done before the phone call. She pulled them off when Marinette grabbed a cushion and plopped beside her.

“How did it go?”

Marinette nodded. “Two weeks.”

Alya raised her brows with her eyes still focused on her homework. “Fast.”

“Yeah… Oh, that one’s B.”

“Damn,” Alya grumbled as she erased her circle around C.

The two soon sat in silence. Marinette couldn’t figure out what to say, and Alya was too busy focusing on her work. Now that she knew she had gotten one question wrong, she wondered how many others were also incorrect.

_She’s getting further._

* * *

_Saturday, two weeks later_

Marinette sat on the floor with Tikki, her small suitcase of the few things she’d brought to Alya’s house spread out beside her. She folded the bag up, looked around the room she’d called home for the last month and a half, said her goodbyes to Alya’s family, and went into the car that Gabriel had sent for her.

The end of her stay at the Cesaires’ was more calm and somber than she would’ve expected at any other time. She’d felt the closeness when she hugged Alya’s mother, but she couldn’t say the same for Alya herself. Alya had cried a bit, smiled, and wished her luck, but Marinette couldn’t reciprocate the same genuine feeling. She knew she was the only one who felt it, the distance. Alya had been nothing but protective and talkative, like normal, and it was true. Alya believed nothing was wrong. She knew Marinette often internalized her problems and took her sudden quietness as a sign of anxiety about the internship. She could read Marinette well, but not the reasoning.

The car ride was lonely. The manor was lonely, standing all alone, surrounded by its high gates, in the middle of the busy streets of Paris. 

But when she entered the house, suitcase in hand, Adrien and Nathalie were the first to greet her. 

“Welcome, Marinette. Follow me. Monsieur Agreste should be finishing his meeting soon.”

They led her through the marble hallways. If she hadn’t known where she was, she would’ve thought she was in a fortress being brought to her demise.

“I’m glad you accepted,” Adrien smiled. He said quietly, “How have you been doing?”

Marinette nodded and felt her lips quirk upward. “Okay, I think.”

“It’s gonna be a little brighter with you around.”

Marinette blushed but felt a twang of sadness. That might’ve been true had she been the Marinette she was a few months ago. Now, she didn’t really know who she was supposed to be or who she was becoming. She just knew she was moving through life but without much thought to what she was doing.

Nathalie knocked on the grand, white double-doors before opening them and led them in.

“Marinette,” Gabriel’s cool voice welcomed her. He sat at a large desk that made her feel even smaller to be in the same room as him. She’d only spoken to him over the phone since he visited Alya’s house, so now she could feel how intensely intimidating he was in his home. 

His office was eerily reminiscent of the rest of the house, like he’d just forgotten to decorate the whole place. It was a starkly plain if not for the golden painting that hung behind his desk, the bright spot of color in the house of black and white. 

It was a woman, Marinette realized. A beautiful woman that had Adrien’s eyes. Adrien’s mother. She could sense how her presence had brought warmth to this house, but gone, there was no one willing to fill it.

“Apologies for not being at the door; I just got out of a meeting. Anyway, I know we spoke on the phone, but I just want to say how excited I am to work alongside you on some new designs. I’m interested in seeing what you come up with. Now, I know I said this before, but your schedule is set up similar to Adrien’s in that the bulk of your work will be on the weekends, occasionally on the weekdays, but not often as to not interfere with school.

“Attached to your room is an old studio. It’s your personal studio, so feel free to use it whenever you want, however much you want. I’ll know exactly what materials you’ll need for Gabriel-focused projects, but if you need anything else, please let Nathalie know. We’ll accommodate you for whatever you need.”

Marinette heard Adrien inhale sharply when Gabriel mentioned the studio. She briefly wondered why. To her knowledge, Adrien didn’t do anything on the production side of fashion.

“Thank you, Monsieur. I really do appreciate you giving me this opportunity and allowing me to move in. I hope to learn a lot from you.”

He nodded. “I look forward to seeing your designs. We’ll start in a week after you’ve adjusted to living here. Nathalie, show her to her room.”

“Of course. This way,” Nathalie held her hand to the door and shuffled Adrien and Marinette out of the office. She began to explain more once they headed up the stairs, “House rules are the same for both of you: Home straight after school unless you’ve gotten permission; keep up your grades or privileges are taken away until they’re back up, same for projects, shoots, and work; and doors open when either of you are in each other’s rooms. Here we are, Marinette.”

They’d walked through a labyrinth of hallways that Marinette wasn’t sure she’d be able to remember for the first few days. Maybe she could get away with just sitting in her room the whole weekend so she wouldn’t have to experience the embarrassment of getting caught being lost. 

Her room, however, was simple. Simple and large. They’d left it undecorated, but Marinette could see that it once had been a place of happiness and color. Windows lined one of the walls, going from the floor to the ceiling, and she saw the ghost of a painting that had once been hanging on the wall but was recently removed. The paint was a little darker there than the rest of the wall. The bed was large and grand, with a vanity next to it. There was an attached bathroom and multiple large dressers and closets. Beside them was a spiral staircase that led to an open loft. Upstairs was the studio, similarly sized to the lower floor, with a small balcony and a skylight. 

Marinette’s heart pounded as she took in the sight. The two levels reminded her of her room at home with its connection to the rooftop. The room was filled with late-morning light, and she felt tears beginning to well. She took a seat on the lowest stair and pressed her palms to her eyes and tried not to cry.

She hadn’t noticed that Nathalie had already left the room. It was just her and Adrien.

He sat cross-legged at the base of the stairs and leaned his head against the railing. He watched her, not with fascination or curiosity, but with a deep sadness he hadn’t realized he still had within himself. It hadn’t been long since his mother’s death. This had been her studio, once. His father had converted it to fit a teenager who had homework and didn’t paint as often as his mother had. 

He hadn’t been allowed into this room, both by his father and himself. Something in him just wouldn’t let him go down this hallway, as if seeing her room in the state that she’d left it would make it more real that she was gone. He thought he’d understood and accepted that already. 

But out of everyone, he was glad Marinette was the next occupant. Maybe she’d see what his mother had, the beauty this room showed to her and no one else. He’d come in and marvel at the rainbow of colors and stacks of canvas as he stared around the room on the floor. There was a certain magic only his mother had been able to channel, and he hoped Marinette would find that too. 

“I thought you and Nathalie had both left,” Marinette sniffled, minutes later. “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t be crying—I should be happy! This is such a nice room and—”

“Marinette, you don’t have to be sorry for having feelings,” he said. He remembered that time, the constant urge to cry. Days would pass when he didn’t think it was possible for him to feel anything, and then something—anything—would happen and the tears wouldn’t stop. All he could do was cry until there was nothing left and then some. 

She sniffled then and wiped her tears again. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

She shrugged. “Being here? Not letting me be alone, I don’t know.”

“Anytime.” His gentle smile grew. “Hey, now that you’re here, you might start to see that happening with me a few times too. So don’t worry about it. This time was you, maybe next time will be me.”

She frowned. “That’s horrible.”

“It is, yeah. I get it, though. It gets better, but it takes a while… How was leaving Alya?”

Marinette began to stare intently at the stairs, at how there were a few spots more worn than others. Another flaw in this room in the otherwise pristine house. “Fine. They were all expecting it.”

“And you?”

She swallowed hard. It’d been a while since she’d talked to Adrien, but she remembered why it took her so long to get close to him. For a while, she didn’t understand just how alone he was and kept him at a distance. It was only after she was Ladybug for long enough that she could relate, having had to carry the weight of such an isolating secret.

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly then sighed. “It feels like there’s nothing in me and so much at once.” She hugged her legs closer to herself and put her forehead against her knees. Her hair was down today, and she felt the heat of her breath warming the enclosed space. “I feel like I don’t deserve to be here. I should’ve been able to get here on my own, not… not because my parents had to die for it.”

Adrien didn’t really pay attention to what his father’s foundation did, but he was able to see how the timing for Marinette was strange. His father always did things with a motive, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. 

“I don’t think they’d be mad at you for taking this opportunity. And… I don’t think my father would have done it for the press. He doesn’t have much to gain. I think he was planning this before everything. It just ended up being bad timing.”

“Really?”

Adrien nodded. That sounded a lot cooler than saying that his father was an asshole who never did anything without a reason. “I think they’d be really proud of you.”

She smiled softly and looked out the window. “Hey, was this room your mom’s?”

He blinked in surprise. “Yeah. It was. How’d you know?”

“There’s too much good natural light in here. It’d be a waste not to use it all. And that view from the second level? That, and the paint’s darker where things were hanging on the walls.”

“Artists,” he said wistfully, looking out the window. “I think you’ll like it in here—the room, I mean. Not the rest of the house.”

“Is your dad home a lot?”

“I dunno, never really see him around either way. But Nathalie is usually.”

“I can’t imagine growing up here.”

“Me neither.”

Marinette felt a laugh bubble out of her. “But you did!”

“And I really wish I hadn’t.” 

“Well, you’re not alone in this anymore. Maybe he’ll be less horrible now that there’s two of us.”

“Only because he’ll probably get pissed at something stupid in your design that was perfectly fine and not have enough energy to hound me.”

“Don’t say that! I’m nervous enough.”

Adrien shrugged and laughed at her horrified expression. “Maybe he’ll be nice! Maybe his personality will do a complete 180, and he’ll turn into a loving father. He’ll paint the walls a color that’s not neutral and get some comfortable furniture—he’s got the money!”

“Please stop, you’re making this so much worse.”

“Welcome home!”


End file.
